


Something After All

by Bmxtthxw



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Cuddles, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, One Shot Collection, technically lovers to enemies to lovers, this is a sort of canon but slightly to the left au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23456830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bmxtthxw/pseuds/Bmxtthxw
Summary: There were so many ways that confrontation could have ended. What if Curt had chosen Owen instead of what he did? Maybe he goes with Owen and maybe they stick with Chimera but maybe they just stick with each other. That's the important part.An AU where Curt goes with Owen at the confrontation. One shots are not in any specific order but they are in the same universe.(Title comes from Starry)
Relationships: Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega
Comments: 54
Kudos: 110





	1. This wasn't how he thought it would go

Owen was alive. Owen was alive and had been for the last four years. Owen was alive and was pointing a gun right at his head. Curt wasn’t sure which part was supposed to be relieving. Stuck in his thoughts, he didn’t quite pick anything up until Owen mentioned other facilities.

“There’s more?” Oh how he wished he could hope that Owen was bluffing. 

“How does it feel to know you’ll never catch up with us?” It felt no different than anything else had since he’d gone back to being a spy. He was so far behind and it might just be the death of him.

“It.. It’s not too late to fix this, if you give up Chimera, I’m sure the agency can pull some strin-”

“You still don’t see, do you, Curt?” In all the time he had known him, Owen had never raised his voice at Curt. He didn’t bother to hide the fact that it made him flinch. “I’m going to single-handedly dismantle everything you ever believed in!”

“We used to share those beliefs,” He thought he had known heartbreak when Owen had first died. If that was heartbreak, he didn’t know what to call this but he knew he couldn’t hide it from Owen. He’d always seen right through him. His mind was running on autopilot, words just going. He wasn’t sure he even knew half of what he said. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t think we’re making a difference.” He was a half step away from begging.

“You’re a caveman. I’ve invented fire.” Owen knew it and he was taunting him now. Maybe he always had been. The day had been too much of a whiplash and it was killing him.

“I’ll stop you.” 

“You’ll do your best.” No, he wouldn’t. And Owen was well aware of it. Curt still could never harm him. The clicking of a gun caught his attention again. “I remember. A new world awaits us, Curt. A world without agencies, a world without spies, a world without _secrets_.” And there was the kicker that Curt knew was coming. Of course that would be the bait that Owen would pick.

“Some secrets aren’t yours to share. What about our secret?” He asked even though every part of him wanted to stop having to hide what they had. He wanted to stop hiding who he was… Maybe Owen had a point. He looked up again, Owen’s gun still aimed at his chest as he lowered his own. “Are you ready to share that with the world?” He asked but he hoped Owen would pick up on the underlying _I’m ready to share if you are_. 

Curt closed his eyes after a second of watching Owen, not wanting to watch if he decided to get him out of the way.

“What?” That wasn’t the sound he expected but it was a hell of a lot better than getting shot for the second time this week. He’d caught Owen off guard. That was a first.

“Maybe I’m tired of secrets too.” If anyone asked what he was saying, Curt wasn’t sure he could answer. He always did have a habit of talking faster than he could think, but… But he couldn’t lose this, not when he had a slight chance of getting his- getting Owen back. The man before him might not be his Owen anymore but it was Owen and he couldn’t lose that. “I can’t get the system offline, you’re right. You always have been. But maybe you have a point… Maybe Chimera does.” he paused. Owen still hadn’t lowered his gun. “Maybe I’m fucking tired of the agency. And of hiding and of being treated like shit… Is it too late to go rogue?” 

“How can I trust you’re not just going to flip sides again? You’ve been awfully fidgety about that lately.”

“Fire the gun. Destroy the tracker in my watch. We can fake my death, the secret service won’t ever have to know.” Finally, Owen’s aim shifted. When he pulled the trigger, Curt flinched at the noise as a bullet whizzed past his head.

“Keep up. Keep out of the way. If you pull any shit, you’ll be dead before morning.” Owen turned and started out of the building, leaving Curt to follow. So he did.


	2. The one where Curt gets himself hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curt tries hard to keep up with Owen on missions but sometimes the fuck ups aren't his fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Blood mention

“Are you completely stupid?” Owen had been ranting the entire time that they’d been back in the hotel room, pacing in front of the bed (and oh had he been pissed when he found out that the reservation had been fucked up and the double room was not what they got). Curt was actually pretty sure that it had started in the car on the way there but he had been too busy making sure they weren’t being followed.

“Like I said two minutes ago, no matter what I say, you say the answer is yes.”

Owen shot him a glare that should have told him to shut up. “You haven’t listened to a damn word I said. You never have.”

“Owen, I’m trying-” Curt sighed as he was interrupted.

“One mission, Curt. I needed you to listen to one damn mission. You could have gotten us killed.”

“Owen, listen-” He was yet again interrupted by a slamming of the door. Owen had walked out. “Fuck.”

He waited until he was sure this wasn’t just Owen stepping out for a minute to catch his breath to move his hand away from his leg. At least if Owen caught onto it later, he couldn’t say that he didn’t try to ask for help. It wasn’t even his fault that shit went wrong this time, not really. Well, it was technically his fault that he got lightly stabbed but did that really make the rest of the mission his fault too? If you asked Owen, it probably was so Curt stayed quiet. He made a slight effort to ask for help but it was really the last thing he wanted. Owen still seemed like he hated him and Curt always felt like he was moments from getting left behind.  _ Keep up. Keep out of the way _ . That’s what he’d been told. He was going to do that. He could do that. As soon as he could get himself to look at his own blood. Should be easy. Not like he’s hematophobic or anything.

He’d gotten as far as keeping steady pressure on it by the time he heard footsteps in the hall.  _ Shit. Shit shit shit _ , he was supposed to handle this. He’d be able to handle it if he could get his damn hand to stop shaking long enough. 

The door clicked as it unlocked and Curt, in all the few thoughts he had going through his head that weren’t a string of curse words, decided that just putting his hand over it again would keep it hidden.

“What are you doing?” Owen raised a brow. He didn’t have a clue what Curt was up to but it looked suspiciously like it was something stupid.

“Nothing. Nothing.” He waved his free hand in the air like brushing something away.

“Uh huh… That’s why your hand’s shaking?” He nodded, watching as Curt hid the hand in question. He still hadn’t moved the one on his leg though and that was weird. Curt used to hide both hands when Owen pointed something like that out. Then he noticed what was off. “Curt, are you bleeding?”

“No, I’m f-fine.” He shook his head too fast and had to squeeze his eyes shut. Owen’s questioning and the panic he’d already been feeling did not combine well.

“I was gone for half an hour, it shouldn’t take you that long to have fixed something like that.” Owen scoffed.

“Fuck off. Just. Fuck off, Owen, please.” He had kept his eyes closed so he didn’t see the mildly offended look that crossed the other man’s face. “I’m dealing with it.”

“Mhm. Sure. Y’know most people need their eyes open to bandage things.”

“Owen, please.” Curt flinched at his own voice cracking. “Please. Just leave me alone, I’ll deal with it. I’m not as good at this as you are, I know that. Just leave it…”

There’s silence in the room for a moment before Owen walks away again. Curt breathes out a sigh but he’s not sure if it’s of relief or not. He knows he needs help with this but he still can’t bring himself to ask.

He should’ve guessed he didn’t need to when Owen came back a moment later, towels from the bathroom in hand. “Move. Your hands. Move them.” He made a little waving motion with his own hands. 

“I-I’m fin-”

“No, you’re not. Move your hands.” Curt hesitated for a moment more before doing as Owen said, turning his head away. “You can close your eyes. I’ll deal with the bandaging.”

“I’m sorry. I-I… I tried to…” His hands were still shaking but he wasn’t sure if it was the panicking before that was causing it or the fear that Owen would leave that was continuing it.

“I know.” Owen’s voice was softer than it had been the entire time they’d been working together again. It surprised Curt enough that it had him looking back at Owen (though he was careful to keep his gaze on Owen’s face and not any lower). The usual glare that he had was gone. If it weren’t for the new scratches and scarring on his face, from the warehouse collapsing, from the four years they had been apart, Curt could almost believe that no time had passed since the moment he first realized he loved Owen. The old, gentle, caring look was on his face again, gaze entirely focused on what he was doing. “It’s alright. You don’t have to apologize.” 

Curt stayed quiet after that, not quite knowing what to say. All he wanted to do was apologize, for anything and everything, and pray he wouldn’t lose this again. Lost in thought, he didn’t zone back in again until he jumped at the feeling of Owen grabbing his hand.

“Calm down. I’m just wiping it off so you don’t freak out again.” He said before doing the same with Curt’s other hand. He didn’t let go right away, leading to Curt looking over at him, a bit worried. “I’m sorry. I should’ve known better than to assume you were just being careless…”

“I… No, that’s nothing to apologize for with the shit I’ve pulled in the past…”

“Curt, you never fall behind. I should have known better. Don’t… Don’t worry about it, dear. Really. It’s late, we’re both tired. We should get sleep.” He got up, taking the towels with him. When he came back, Curt shifted to get out of the bed. “What are you doing?”

“Moving so you can sleep?”

“Curt, you got stabbed. There’s not a second bed. Where the hell are you thinking of sleeping?”

“Where are you?”

“You’re not taking the floor.”

“Neither are you.”

The glare was back but it wasn’t as angry as it had been. No, this was the one that Curt remembered, the one Owen always gave when he was tired of Curt’s shit but clearly found it amusing. “What’s your plan then, duck?”

Curt pretended not to notice the pet name. “Fuck it. There’s enough space for both of us. We can put a pillow in the middle if you don’t want to risk touching, but it’s not like we’ve never shared a bed before.”

So that’s what they did and despite the light stab wound on his leg and the fact that he was sleeping closer to Owen than he had in years, it was probably the safest Curt had felt falling asleep since the warehouse.

They started off with a little barricade (more for Owen than for Curt) but at some point they’d both woken up, neither knowing who’s nightmare woke them. It wasn’t unusual, nightmares came with the job, but that didn’t stop Curt, clingy bastard that he was, from reaching out to Owen, reaching to hold onto his shirt, just a reminder that he was there. And then he stopped. Remembered who they were. What happened. And puts his arm down again. Owen grabbed his hand anyway, pushing the pillow out of the way. He was as careful as he had been before while he pulled himself closer to Curt, holding their hands to his chest.

“Curt?” His voice was as soft as before, quiet enough that if he wasn’t listening to Owen, he wouldn’t have noticed it. He squeezed his hand in acknowledgement. “Curt, I… I’m so sorry. I-I know… I know hating you for what happened is… it’s not fair to you, not after all you’ve done to try to make it right… I’m so sorry.”

Curt was silent. If heartbreak had been what he felt when the warehouse collapsed, this was almost the opposite. He didn’t react for almost too long, reminded of the time passing when he felt Owen try to pull his hand away.

“Owe, I’m not upset with you.” He said quietly, turning on his side to look at Owen in the darkness. “I’m not. I fucked up a lot back then… You have every right to still be upset and I understand… I’m never going to stop trying to make it right. I love you. I always have. I’ll never stop. Even if you hate me for what happened for the rest of our days.”

The room is quiet again when Curt stops talking. It stays quiet except for their breathing but Curt can see Owen and he knows that Owen can see him. The quiet doesn’t stop when Owen breathes out something vaguely similar to a “Fuck it” and closes the distance between them, wrapping his arm around Curt, never letting go of his hand. 

“I thought I’d hate you forever. I really did. But you make it so damn hard to hate you…”

“I love you too… Get some sleep, Owe. I’ll still be right here in the morning.”

And he was. They woke up tangled in each other’s arms again, just like they used to and… maybe it wasn’t back to normal again but it was a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)


	3. The agency treated him like shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen was always aware that people weren't the nicest to Curt but this was a different level.

It was quiet, and they were so far above everything and everyone who would care and the only thing that mattered was that Curt had Owen beside him and neither had plans to go anywhere anytime soon. And yet, through all the quiet, Curt’s thoughts were louder than ever and he knew he was spacing out but didn’t think it mattered until he got a nudge in the side, an arm around his shoulders pulling him just a bit closer, and a concerned Owen looking his way. “Hm?”

  
“I asked what you were thinking. You’re not usually this quiet, love.”

  
Curt was yet again quiet for a moment, just giving a shrug as an answer at first as he laid his head against Owen’s shoulder. He knew he’d want a better answer than just a shrug but he also knew that Owen was fine letting Curt take his time. “Cynthia loved you. She wasn’t ever kidding when she asked you to join us, treason be damned…”

  
“What?” Owen didn’t really understand how this had Curt so caught up in his thoughts, but both knew that Curt was never far from rambling so he just waited for the answer.

  
“Yeah. She, she loved you, thought you were our best agent, even if you didn’t work for the Americans. Always hated me, compared me to you. Pretty sure she wished we had switched places back in that warehouse.”

  
“What?” And Curt immediately knew he shouldn’t have said that. It was a quiet anger and anyone who didn’t know Owen would never have noticed it, but Curt did notice it.

  
“Nothing. Forget it.” He fucked up. He shouldn’t have said that. Curt always knew how to ruin a perfectly good night with just a few words coming out faster than he ever bothered to think.

  
“Curt.”

  
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He’d ruined the night. Maybe if he could backpedal fast enough- “It’s nothing, Owen. It… She just implied it a lot. Always said things that made sure I knew you were the favorite… You didn’t even fucking work for us and she still loved you more,” and yes, Curt was well aware that he had no reason to want his boss to love him, but he just wanted to be liked, at least, “And… And the day I went back she was, she was lecturing me like always and she brought up that it annoyed her that I took four years to… to deal with what happened-” There was a slight huff from Owen. They’d already had that conversation and Owen didn’t agree that all the alcohol was “dealing with” what happened, “And she mentioned how she got over it in less than a day, said when she got the call that you died and I hadn’t-”

  
“What?” You didn’t even have to know Owen to know he was pissed. You didn’t even have to look at him and Curt didn’t, keeping his head down against his shoulder, even as he felt the other man tensing up beneath him. “Did she actually say that? To you?”

  
He nodded, “Yeah… Yeah, “When I got the call that Owen died, and you lived, I scream-” -”

  
“I’m going to kill her.” And Curt fully believed him. He had worked with Owen long enough to know that tone. “You were the best damn agent she ever had and all she ever did was treat you like shit. Was anyone there ever actually nice to you?”

  
“W- I … I mean, Barb-”

  
“Nice to you without wanting something in some way.”

  
Curt was silent again. He could feel Owen itching to move, wanting to pace like he always did when he got this pissed but Curt couldn’t bring himself to move away to make that possible for him, instead just holding onto Owen’s jacket. It felt childish but it was an anchor. He might’ve been good in the agency but he was never liked.

  
“Oh, Curt… I’m so sorry.” He felt a kiss get pressed to his hair. “You deserved so much better than that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)


	4. Fucking Cynthia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission was going perfectly.

The mission was going perfectly. It was going perfectly and Owen could not be happier about it. He and Curt had figured out a system before going in and it seemed like Curt was doing well with it too as he jogged up next to him, a stolen bag of information slung over his shoulder.

“We should get out before we get company.” He said as he came up, briefly grabbing Owen’s hand to squeeze it gently before letting go again. They’d given up on hiding their relationship, it’s not like they worked for a government that would do anything about it, but they did have a job to do and it was a bit hard to shoot a gun when both hands are full.

“How much time do we have, love?” Owen asked. He could only assume that his partner had set off an alarm of some sort or he wouldn’t be worried about company. Curt checked his watch.

“Seven minutes, give or take a few. I don’t know who it sent the alert to before I shut it off.” He said, starting for the exit.

“Shut it off?”

“Well, shooting it turns it off. It’s just a bit hard to turn it back on.” He grinned. Oh, how Owen had missed this in the years they’d been apart.

“Curt Mega, you are going to be the death of me. Let’s not waste those seven minutes. C’mon.” He followed after Curt, nudging him to go a bit faster. This wasn’t something they could just stroll out of if they didn’t want to be caught.

They only got down one hallway before Curt opened a door to a gun barrel. “So uh. This might not be the right direction.” He tried to back pedal, turning to run down another hallway. More guns. Owen grabbed his hand to pull him through the other door in the room only to be met with yet another group of guns. He found himself glad his gun hadn’t left his holster as he put his hands up, standing back to back with Curt. At least he had that comfort. There wasn’t anyone he trusted more to stand there. 

“Wait, what?” He heard behind him, turning his head just slightly at the sound of Curt’s voice. “What’s going on here?”

“You had us tricked for a while there, Mega,” Oh, Owen knew that voice. Even if he hadn’t, he felt Curt tense up at the sound of Cynthia fucking Houston. “We were almost convinced Owen had killed you. Too bad you can’t go anywhere without making a damn mess.”

“It… It’s not what you-” Curt couldn’t hide the nerves in his voice and Owen wanted nothing more than to comfort him somehow but he wasn’t about to move with this many guns on him.

“What we think?” There was a laugh. “You went rogue, Mega. Not only that, you faked your fucking death and ran off with the red coat, here. What are we supposed to think? Go on. Tell me.”

Owen could practically feel Curt thinking, he could feel him fidgeting. He wanted out. Owen did too but this was different than any other time they got surrounded. Curt knew these people, he knew them by name. He wasn’t sure he could get Curt to shoot anyone. Before he can get any farther in his thoughts, Curt’s taking a step back into him. He turned his head but could only see that Cynthia had an arm raised and pointed at Curt. It didn’t take a genius to know what was in her hand. Owen’s hand was on his own gun in seconds, pulling Curt down and out of the way as he ducked, a gunshot going off over his head. 

Despite all that, Curt was practically frozen, eyes locked on Cynthia’s gun. She was going to shoot him. Actually shoot him, actually try to  _ kill him _ . Holy shit. He was on the verge of panicking when Owen’s hand came into his vision, more gunshots in the background of his thoughts. Hand wrapped around his wrist, Curt was stumbling after Owen as they booked it through the halls.

“I dropped the bag.” He mumbled after the second doorway. He didn’t know why that was his only thought.

“What?” 

“The bag we came for. I dropped it when they cornered us. We gotta-”

“No, we’ve got to get out, Curt. The bag is the least important thing right now.”

“But we went to all the fucking work to ge- shit!” Owen felt Curt stumble more than see it and looked back to find the reason. He’d heard the shots go off, there had to be something, though once he looked, he couldn’t see anything. He wouldn’t risk it, pulling his partner through another door before stopping in front of what he knew to be a supply closet, making Curt go in first and shutting the door behind them.

“What happened?” He whispered, just in case someone had been following closer.

“Something hit me.” They were close but there was enough space for Owen to see Curt. His jacket collar looked ripped and he seemed to be leaning heavier on one leg than the other. The collar was closer so he brushed his hand over that, only for Curt to grab his arm, instinctively trying to pull away. “That’s where something hit me.”

“I can see that, love. I’m trying to see how bad it is.” Curt was quiet for a moment before letting go of Owen’s arm to let him continue.

“Fuckers ripped my jacket and fucked up our mission, I hate them.”

“I do too, love.” Though, Owen was sure he hated them for entirely different reasons as he attempted to be gentle while prodding at what he was pretty sure was a broken collarbone. A bullet must’ve ricocheted because he couldn’t find any more than a rip in the fabric and a hell of a bruise forming.

“I mean. Cynthia fucking shot at me.”

“Yep.”

“Why would she do that?” He glanced up at the heartbreak in his partner’s voice. “I know… I know I technically betrayed the country by going with you but… I’ve never done anything to harm any of the agents… And it’s not the first time she’s tried to kill-” Curt stopped at the look in Owen’s eyes, instead choosing to just lean against him. “My arm hurts.”

“That’s not surprising, love… I’m sorry, I don’t have anything to help it with right now, that’ll have to wait until we can slip out… What’s going on with your leg?”

“Stepped funny when I got hit.” He nudged at Owen to get him to hold him, letting himself relax once his partner’s arms were around him. It wasn’t the time and it certainly wasn’t the place for this but the whole day was going to shit so he’d let himself have this. “She knew we were here.”

“She must have. Can’t think of any other reason she’d bring that many agents with her… Curt, I know she still has some meaning to you, and I understand but-”

“Owen, if you’re about to warn me that she won’t be walking out if you see her before we leave, can it wait til the hotel? Please?” He lifted his head to look up at Owen and there wasn’t a single part of him that could say no to him. He just looked so sad.

“Of course, Curt. Whatever you need.” Owen nodded, gently combing a hand through Curt’s hair as he went quiet.

“I hate Chimera. Sending us on this stupid mission.” Curt mumbled after a couple moments. He never could stay quiet long. “We should ditch them too. Just us. We wouldn’t have to answer to anyone.”

“Curt… We can talk about that idea later… Let’s just focus on getting out in one piece.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I love reading y'all's comments, they're sweet.


	5. The aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They got back okay but Curt's not feeling that way.

They got back to the hotel far later than Owen wanted to but without further injuries. Curt was back to complaining about the ones he had gotten but he had at least agreed to let Owen put his arm in a makeshift sling (Curt wasn’t listening but it had something to do with keeping his collarbone still) with minimal argument. With any other person, that would be a relief but Owen was used to Curt. Minimal argument meant that something was wrong.

“Curt?” He asked softly, watching as Curt picked at the hem of the fabric. He seemed almost surprised at the sound of Owen talking, like he had been zoning out. Really, it wouldn’t have been a surprise if he was. “How are you doing?”

“Fine.” It was a lie. It was a lie and both of them knew it. “Just… tired. Want a drink.” Owen sighed softly. “I know. It’s just habit. Everything sucks.” Curt laid back in the bed he’d claimed as his own with a wince as the movement jostled his arm. 

“Curt, the mission wasn’t that ba-”

“It’s not just the mission, Owe… It’s everything that happened. I mean, we’ve been cornered before and we’ve hidden like that before but just… God… Today just feels worse for some reason.” He went quiet again, back to picking at the fabric. Owen didn’t have to ask to understand. He knew the feeling. Curt had looked up to Cynthia for ages, respected her for longer. 

While it hadn’t been the first time she’d pulled a gun on him, it was the first time she was really trying to kill him. Curt didn’t deal with rejection well, he never had and today was no exception. Without another word, Owen sat down beside him and put his hand out to hold. It took him a minute to notice it there but once he did, Curt took the offer.

After a while, far longer than Owen thought possible for Curt to be quiet, he felt his partner’s grip on his hand loosen. When he looked over, Curt was asleep. Carefully, not wanting to wake him, he pulled his hand away and pulled the blanket up over him before getting up to pace the room.

Curt might’ve been sad about what had happened but Owen was livid. Even after all Curt had told him about what went on within the agency, it still pissed him off, still broke his heart to actually see it happen. 

Owen would never say it out loud (he didn’t want to make Curt feel guilty for something he had apologized for a hundred times) but a part of him understood why he was so out of it after the mission. Being betrayed by someone you trusted did that to you. And that was what made Owen so mad. Curt had put so much into that agency and they had the fucking  _ gall _ to do this shit to him. Curt wasn’t the revenge type but Owen was. He was not above making them regret this, nor was he above hiding it from Curt if need be. 

He paused his pacing when he heard Curt shifting, going right back to it when he stopped moving soon after. It didn’t take long for the shifting to pick back up. Owen just kept up what he was doing, paying attention to Curt just in case. The pacing stopped and he went back to Curt’s side when he noticed the usual signs of a nightmare. He was still there when he woke up.

“Curt?” He kept his voice gentle, just in case it was taking Curt a moment to realize where he was. This was a ritual they both knew by now. 

“Owen,” Owen had known what to expect but it didn’t stop his heart from hurting as Curt all but dove into his arms, fussing for a moment when he couldn’t move the one arm to hug him until he just sank into Owen.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Curt was never far from rambling but the quiet stuck around longer than Owen expected.

“Had a nightmare.” He eventually mumbled. Owen just nodded. He knew that part but the ritual was not new. It was another moment before Curt spoke again. “A mission went wrong. We got cornered. And Cynthia was there for some reason-” Oh, this night wasn’t going to end too well, Owen decided, “- And so were a ton of others that I knew and they started firing at us and…” Curt paused and Owen could feel him trying to move his arm again. “That wasn’t just a nightmare…”

“No, it wasn’t. I’m sorry, love…”

“I fucking hate this.” He huffed, clinging to Owen in a way that said he was more sad than the angry he was attempting to portray. “I mean… I don’t regret the choices I made to get here, I don’t, I’d do it again-”

“I understand, Curt.”

“I just… didn’t realize she actually hated me that much.”

“I know. I’m so sorry...Do you want to try to sleep again?” It didn’t take a genius to know Curt was still tired, but he shook his head anyway.

“Don’t want to be alone.”

“You don’t have to be.” Came the reply. The bed wasn’t quite big enough for two, not in a double room, but Owen had no plans to take the other bed. Not now. “You aren’t going to be. I’m not going anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Like I said before, your comments are so sweet, I love reading them.  
> Also a note about how and sort of why Curt's reacting to this the way he is, even if Cynthia has shot him before: I write the character with ADHD (granted, it was not called such in the 50s and 60s, nor was it really considered a thing outside of children, which is why it isn't straight up said). A common symptom/side effect of ADHD is something called Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria. This commonly leads to really strong, really bad reactions to rejection (especially from respected people) including depression.


	6. What if they left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curt's still stuck on the idea but maybe Owen is too

It had been a few weeks since the first time he brought it up but Curt hadn’t stopped thinking about leaving Chimera. He had never been fond of the organization, only ever there for Owen, but the more he thought about it, the more he wanted both of them out of it.

“We never talked about the idea later.” He said one day. They hadn’t had anything to do that day so Owen had taken them to some little woods that he loved. There was a perfect little clearing for a picnic. Owen seemed confused as he glanced up from his book. 

“What? Which idea, dear?”

“Leaving.” Curt kept his gaze focused on a tree in the distance, really not wanting to see Owen’s reactions. Didn’t want to see, just in case this would be another rejection.

“Leaving Chimera? I honestly just thought you said that because you were pissed off. Is that actually something you want?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I… Do you ever think that maybe the idea of no more secrets is one of those things that looks good on the menu but ends up being shit?” He risked a glance at Owen but instead of being ignored like he assumed, Owen was actually listening, seeming to consider it.

“We wouldn’t have to hide from anyone,” He said, “No one could be manipulated by lies from governments.”

“Yeah, but… That wouldn’t change anything. Governments would find new ways to spread lies, half truths and… Owen, some of us are more comfortable hiding. I mean, my mom is still convinced you were just a drinking buddy. We wouldn’t have the option to hide anymore-”

“That can change in time. And there won’t be any agencies to mess with us anymore.”

“How do you know it will work?” Curt asked, the one question he’d wondered this whole time, even as he went along on the mission. A small voice in the back of his head was warning him to stop, _ If you pull any shit, you’ll be dead before morning _ floating around somewhere. “It’s just… I don’t want to be superstitious, but even the name seems to doom it from the start.”

“What do you mean?” Owen didn’t sound upset and really, Curt didn’t know why he expected him to be. 

“I mean…” Curt paused. “Chimera is a creature from mythology right?” Owen nodded, “Well that’s not the only meaning of the word and I just- I’m sure you guys weren’t considering that part when the name was picked, because the creature is better known and all but the other meaning just feels like how to damn an organization from the start, and again I don’t want to sound superstitious but-”

“Dear, what’s the other meaning?” Again, he didn’t sound upset. Just gentle, curious. Curt loved him.

“Chimera is a word for a thing that while wanted, is impossible.” He said, looking back at the tree. “What’s the point of naming an organization after an impossible thing? I… I just worry. What’s going to happen to us if this all goes up in flames? What’s going to happen to us if it doesn’t? We’ve done a lot of illegal shit, and I’m not saying that they were for bad reasons but we don’t have a single government on our side. I just worry about it all…”

“Curt… No matter what happens, we’re going to be okay.” Owen reached over to grab his hand, trying to get Curt to look at him again. “And,” He paused, taking a breath. “If you really do want to leave, we can. We don’t have to stop any of what we already do, hell, maybe we can even team up with those friends you had, see if they need any help. It’s not like we haven’t already been committing crime.” He joked, wanting Curt to smile, at least. “Whatever we choose, we’ll be okay…”

They stayed quiet for a while after that, Curt laying against Owen and Owen attempting to read but his thoughts kept getting interrupted. Maybe Curt’s idea wasn’t a bad one. Not the whole superstition thing, Owen didn’t believe in those the same way Curt did, but leaving Chimera. He already had a few issues with the organization, shared Curt’s fear of retaliation once all secrets were laid out, hated some of the missions they got sent on (Owen was getting real tired of important details being left out leading to him or Curt having to get out by the skin of their damn teeth). Maybe Curt’s idea wasn’t a bad one.

“Alright.” He finally spoke up after a while. Curt seemed confused. “Alright, let’s leave. Just us. We’ll do whatever the fuck we want, keep each other safe. See where to go from there.”

“Really? You… You’re actually into the idea?”

“Of course. There will still be lives to save outside of Chimera’s missions. Whatever we do, we’ll be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	7. Curt's gotten protective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things have changed since the building collapsed all those years ago

They both pretended they didn’t notice new little details but they both knew that Curt acted differently on missions now. He was never entirely  _ careless _ , but he certainly wasn’t careful before. The cockiness got in the way.

Now he was careful. He was cocky still, but that was only ever verbal. He seemed to try to avoid risks, even if the safer option was more boring. Owen hadn’t even noticed that part until they went to cover their tracks and he didn’t feel the ground shake under them until they were out of the building and across the parking lot. Even if they had made fantastic timing, none of Curt’s “records” would have given that much extra. 

Curt never used to run first (Owen shot better and had longer legs. It was more logical), but now he always made sure to get through doors first, down paths, always made sure he was the first to run into any obstacles.

Curt never used to care about how steady the pathways were but now he tried to avoid any staircase that looked remotely shaky. If it didn’t have some sort of railing, he did avoid it. 

Hell, he even avoided leaving anything behind. 

Curt pretended that he was not aware of Owen noticing these details. He didn’t want to start that conversation.

He ends up not being able to avoid the conversation. The mission was fine, Curt had figured out what he assumed would be plenty of time to set the explosions so they had time to get out, including his new habit’s time buffer. That had not accounted for getting held up a bit longer than they usually did. It wasn’t his fault Owen had gotten caught up by a couple henchmen or whatever they were and decided to be showy in dealing with them. It wasn’t his fault that he found that a little attractive. And it certainly wasn’t his fault that Owen’s shooting had drawn the attention of several others. They dealt with that though and were quick to head down the path they’d come in through, 

Curt had sprinted up a set of stairs first, Owen close behind, when the foundation shook. The first of the explosions had gone off. If he hadn’t had Owen catching him by the back of his jacket at the last second, he would’ve been hitting that foundation. They didn’t stop for any more chatting on the way out. 

What scared Curt was the fact that Owen was silent all the way back to their hotel. The fact that the moment they were in the room, Owen had Curt in his arms and wasn’t letting go. The fact that he wasn’t being yelled at.

“Owen? Are you-”

“What the hell are you thinking? It doesn’t even make sense for you to go first, I run faster.” It was bullshit logic and they both knew it.

Curt cracked a smile, “I’m not letting you leave my ass in the dust. It’s a race, babe, I’m winning it.” It was bullshit logic and they both knew it.

“You’re an idiot. Stop doing it.”  _ I love you. I can’t lose you. _

“We both know that I won’t.”  _ I love you too. I can’t lose you either. _

Neither sleeps well that night. Curt does stop, for a while. He’s back to the habit in a month. Owen pretends he doesn’t notice. He knows why Curt does it now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	8. I still love you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quiet afternoon, old memories, a bit of worry.

It wasn’t possible for them to get married. Not officially, like in a church with friends and everything. Not even just in a courthouse. That was okay. They had the government involved in so much of their lives already that they didn’t feel a need to pull it into their love too. They couldn’t wear the rings on the right fingers. That was okay. The symbolism wasn’t for anyone else. It was for them. Curt always wore his on his right ring finger. Owen always wore his on his necklace. Neither one thought about it anymore. They had considered each other husbands long before the rings.

Owen had honestly assumed that Curt would take his off after all that had happened. He didn’t. Curt had assumed that Owen had done the same. He hadn’t.

They had been relaxing, a mission finally went well. Owen was trying to read but Curt never could sit still so he was taking apart whatever objects were in his reach. It wasn’t easy, because Owen was holding onto one of his hands, so half the objects were more broken than taken apart. He hadn’t even realized that Owen was playing with his hand until he felt the motions stop.

“You still keep it on.” It’s not a question but there’s a gentle surprise in the tone.

“Of course I do. I love you just as much as I did then.” It’s stated as fact but it’s just as gentle as the surprise was.

There was a quiet fumbling and the sound of metal clicking against metal as Owen moved to pull his necklace out from under his shirt. The chain had been changed to one like the one used for dog tags but Curt knew better. He just hadn’t expected there to really be anything on it until Owen pulled out the ring.

“You kept yours.” It’s not a question.

“Of course I did.” It’s stated as fact. “I never took it off.”

They go quiet. It’s a gentle quiet and neither really mind it. Curt knew that Owen was thinking about something, even if he couldn’t hear it. Owen’s tells hadn’t changed. The fidgeting stopped again.

“Hey Curt?”

“Hey Owen.” 

He rolled his eyes. He couldn’t believe he was still in love with that dumbass.

“Can I ask you something?” And he knew he shouldn’t word it like that. He knew better. He knew that Curt got anxious at questions worded like that but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to buy himself time before risking hearing what he didn’t want to.

“Is everything alright?” He looked up at Owen with concern, that concern only growing when he saw Owen fidgeting with his necklace. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. I just… I love you. Always have, you know?”

“Yes, I know… Owen, you’re worrying me.”

“I know, I know, and I’m sorry, I.. Remember when I suggested the rings?”

“Yes?” Confusion seemed to be joining the concern.

“Do you remember what they were for?”

“Owen, yes. Are you sure you’re okay?” Curt reached up and grabbed his hand, forcing the fidgeting to stop completely.

“Do-” He took a breath. Curt hadn’t seen him nervous like this in years. “Do you still want that? To call us that?”

“To call us what? Partners? Husbands?” He laughed softly. Not out of cruelty, but out of relief. 

“Curt.” He stopped when he realized that Owen was genuinely nervous about this.

“Owen, of course I do. I still love you just as much as I did then, remember?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	9. This was weird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen's having a weird time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slight tw needed for this chapter  
> TW: Nongraphic stabbing (Not at all described, more implied)

Owen vaguely recognized the warehouse they were in. He couldn’t say he knew why, but he knew that he did. He also vaguely recognized the people around him. He, again, couldn’t say he knew why, just that he did. He did know though, that he didn’t see Curt. A part of him assumed that this was due to the mission, that he had slipped off to try to do his part of the job, as they usually didn’t separate for any reason but that they had different jobs.

The conversation seemed weirdly familiar, like he had heard it before, but it didn’t quite process until the arms dealer walked into the building. He knew that man. He hadn’t seen Sergio Santos in at least a year, maybe more, but he knew the man. It didn’t take long before he figured out why he couldn’t see Curt because soon enough, he was face to face with him and he had that  _ damn _ beard again and was aiming a gun at him.

He moved on autopilot as he pushed the barrel of the gun away from him, shooting everywhere but himself before disarming Curt and aiming it towards Curt. This was weird. This had happened before, he was sure of it. He fired the last bullet but before he could see it hit, he was opening his eyes to a different room, now sitting beside Curt. He absently realized he must’ve been dreaming. He again didn’t get much thought in before Curt was moving and he was quick to follow. “For fucks sake, Mega, slow down a bit, would you?”

“You got long legs, you can keep up just fine, darling.” Owen found himself questioning why he continued to work with Curt when he never seemed to let up on the cocky annoying exterior. “Or did that little power nap slow you down?” 

He could hear the American’s smirk and it had his hand itching towards one of the many weapons he kept on his person. He stopped within a second though, a little confused as to why he was suddenly so angry.

“Carvour, keep up!” He rolled his eyes and jogged to catch up, only to be grabbed and pulled into a broom closet.

“What is this? We have a mission.”

“Good luck kiss,” The smirk was back, even as he leaned up to kiss Owen. He just chuckled softly, letting him do as he pleased. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Curt.”

The mission went by fast enough that Owen could only assume it went fine. All he knew was that Curt was inching closer and closer to an injury and it was not going to be mission related.

“We should go to a bar. To celebrate.”

“Curt, we both know that’s stupid. You have no control.”

“I have you.” Why did he have to fall in love with that  _ stupid _ smile.

So they went to the bar. And, of course, Owen had been right. Curt had no control. It didn’t take long before the other was hanging off him as he tried to just get them to the damn room.

“I love you.”

“Shut up. We’re in public.”

“I love you anyway.”

“Curt.”

“You love me.” Owen just stayed silent, getting them in the door. He didn’t get far before Curt was pinning him against the wall, trying to kiss him. “I love you and you love me. You hide things well but you never hide that anymore.”

“Mhm. You’re drunk.” He found himself getting pissed off again. Curt didn’t notice his hand shifting.

He really couldn’t say he knew what happened next but he knew there was a knife in Curt and betrayal in his eyes.

“I… I thought you loved me. You said so…”

“Oh that?” Owen smiled, pushing Curt away with the hilt of the knife. “That was all acting, love.” A laughter joined the smile.

This wasn’t right. Something was wrong, every logical part of him was panicking at this, at this sight, but it didn’t feel like that part was in control.

“Owen. Owen, c’mon. You’re scaring me, sweetheart.” The Curt in front of him wasn’t moving his mouth and the voice he heard sounded miles and miles away. He finally seemed to get some sort of control, only to open his eyes to a different room with a Curt that was more worried than the scared one he had just left.

“Curt?” He asked, hating that he could feel his voice shaking and he knew his partner could hear it. His hands went to Curt’s stomach first, before any sort of answer, needing to check, needing to feel for himself.

“It’s alright. It’s alright, Owe, you’re safe. We’re safe. It was just a dream.” The lack of hole in Curt confirmed the words he was hearing and he was quick to pull his partner to his chest.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.” He mumbled.

“It’s alright, sweetheart… It was just a nightmare.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took like 8 years. I started writing this, had a breakdown, bon appetit.   
> Thanks for reading, I do apologize that this one is a lil rough, I do not have energy to fix it.


	10. Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen wrote letters. Curt kept letters.

Owen had written Curt letters for years. It was the easiest way to talk to him when they were apart, less likely to be listened in on than phone calls given their jobs. Even if it wasn’t that, Owen just liked the concept of them, liked writing them. Curt didn’t always write back, wasn’t always in a position where he could, but he liked them nonetheless. Sometimes they were just normal little check ins after long periods of time that they hadn’t gone on a mission together (Curt always made sure to respond to those somehow, just to let him know he was okay), sometimes they were written in codes, just in case Cynthia or someone else found them (Curt was more careful with these, not wanting to out either of them), and sometimes they were openly and clearly love letters, with just their initials as the sign offs, just in case (Curt was the most careful with these as they were just for him. Even if he could share these, he never would).

Curt kept all of the letters after Owen had died. He knew exactly where all of them were (In a box in his mother’s house, hidden where she wouldn’t know to look). A few stayed with him because sometimes Owen was the only comfort that worked, even if he wasn’t really there.

Owen still wrote Curt letters. He never sent them, never showed them, because Curt was close again and they weren’t being seperated to go home to different countries. The letters were still love letters, still were sometimes written in codes. Sometimes they were just things that Owen felt like he needed to get out of his head that he wanted to tell Curt but he couldn’t, so he did in a way that meant he didn’t because Curt wasn’t going to see these until Owen chose to send them, which he had no plans on doing. He just keeps them in his jacket pocket until he can hide them away somewhere else. The system works well.

One day, despite having a perfectly good jacket of his own, Curt decided to steal Owen’s. Owen thought nothing of it, besides, Curt was kind of cute in his jackets (though he did make a mental note to remember to take it back. He still hadn’t gotten back the last one Curt stole and it had been six years since then). Owen was the first to fall asleep that night. 

He wasn’t asleep long, waking up to the sound of paper rustling and the sight of Curt still in his jacket, the papers in his hand. _Shit._

“What’re you doing?” He tried to sound like he hadn’t just had a miniature panic at the sight of Curt reading letters he wasn’t supposed to see.

“Oh, I… They-” Curt paused, reaching over for his own jacket. A moment of fumbling for the right pocket passed before Curt pulled out several letters. “I forgot I wasn’t wearing mine. Started to reread som-.... Was going to reread them, I didn’t notice anything wrong ‘cause you still address them the same way, I didn’t- I know I shouldn’t have-... I’m sorry, but Owen… Why didn’t you say anything? About- About any of this, Chimera, the things they said to you, the… any of this…”

“It was never a good time. I wasn’t planning on sending those.” 

“I don’t think there’s ever going to be a good time, darling.” Curt said gently, though Owen didn’t miss the fact that he put the letters back into the coat pocket they came from, a silent agreement to not read anything more than what Owen was willing to share. “But if you don’t want to share any of it, you don’t need to. I’m sorry I read them.” He reached over to grab Owen’s hand. “I’m here if you change your mind.” 

There was quiet in the room for a while, neither letting go of the other’s hand.

“I never mentioned it because I didn’t write that one until a couple days ago.” Owen eventually said. “It… It’s not a new thought, but it isn’t exactly easy to accept that I spent four years being lied to about everything I thought I knew… I mean, I knew they were lying about some things, but so did MI6, so did your agency. I just never knew the scale of it all.”

“What do you mean?”

“They convinced me that you had done it on purpose. The whole broken railing and slipping and timing and everything… I mean, for the first few months I knew better, I know you’re not that good of an actor,” There was a small noise of protest from Curt, making Owen smile just faintly as he continued, “but… Well, you can only hear something so much before it gets hard to discredit. And it didn’t help that every other part of me was still aching and hurting. Still does sometimes.”

“From the fall?”

Owen nodded, pulling Curt closer to him before Curt could scoot away out of guilt. “Stop that. You know I’m not about to start blaming you for five years ago again… They convinced me that the missions were right, that it was for the greater good. Greater good, my ass. Far too many people died for their shit, I should have known better-”

“Owen, that isn’t your fault. They lied to you.” 

“Still. I.. I hate that I did that…” He sighed softly. “And it’s not even just the things they did, there’s still days I don’t want to get up and I don’t want to let you leave because it still feels like I’m falling… And I don’t know when I’m going to land… All I know is it’s going to hurt when I do.” 

And it kept going like that for a while longer, with Owen sharing quiet things that he hadn’t mentioned to Curt before. Fears, little details he loved about Curt that he just never said out loud, things that he considered little but that Curt considered important like the pain that came and went from the warehouse, still after all these years.

It was a lot, by the end, but Curt stayed there and never stopped holding onto Owen. He eventually went quiet but it’s clear he wasn’t asleep and he doubted he could go back to sleep until he heard Curt start talking. It wasn’t loud, barely more than a murmur. Owen was tired enough that he couldn’t quite figure out why he recognized the words for a moment.

“I love thee to the level of every day’s most quiet need, by sun and candle-light-”

“Curt, you know Elizabeth Barret Browning?” 

“No.” 

Owen looked up at him confused. “Then how do you know that poem? And why do you have it memorized?” He would have heard it if Curt had picked up a paper but even if he had, he hadn’t written that one down recently, and Curt wasn’t the poetry type, certainly not the type to know it by heart. And then he remembered what Curt had said. “You kept the letters… You keep the letters.”

“I keep that one with me… I know you didn’t write that one, I love the ones you’ve written too, but you mentioned that one was your favorite, you liked it enough to share it with me.”

“You memorized it…”

“Of course.” Curt said it as though that should be obvious. “You said it was your favorite.”

And Owen remembered why he ever fell in love with Curt in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I just love the idea of love letters and absolutely believe Owen would write them.


	11. Eyes for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have a quiet night, they love it.

They’d gotten more quiet nights in a while since they snuck away from Chimera. It wouldn’t last, they knew, eventually Chimera would come after them, but that didn’t matter right now. Right now, they had each other and that was all they cared about. Right now, they had a quiet night together, enjoying each other’s company.

It was quiet all the way up until Curt nearly knocked himself over getting off the bed to turn up the radio. Owen just watched with vague amusement. As soon as Curt had accomplished his goal, he held a hand out to Owen.

“What’s that for?” He asked, raising a brow.

“For you to hold. C’mon.” Curt gestured for him to get up before holding his hand out again.

“Can I not hold it in bed?”

“Darling, come on. Please?” Owen stayed put for half a moment longer but he never could say no to Curt and was soon up and holding onto his hand. “Other hand here,” He tapped his own shoulder to show Owen where to put his hand, his own free hand going to Owen’s waist. 

“You do know you could have just asked me to dance with you, yes?” He said with a gentle smile. 

“Yeah, but would you have gotten up if I did?”

“You have a point.” Owen chuckled softly, “Shouldn’t I lead though, since I’m taller, and you can’t dance?”

“Shut up, it was my idea, I lead.” Curt squeezed his hand, humming along to the music for a moment before gently pushing Owen to start moving, a gentle waltz around the room. “Besides, I don’t have to be good at dancing if it’s just us. I don’t have to be good at anything if it’s just us, just have to be good at loving you.”

“Good thing you’ve had years of practice then.” Owen said it with a smile but Curt knew him too well to trust the smile.

“Stop that.” He lightly swatted Owen’s side. “Loving you is not something I need practice at.

“It certainly isn’t easy.” That got another light swat. Owen laughed, but Curt had a serious look on his face.

“Is anything we do ever easy? Owen, loving you is the best thing I have done. Doesn’t matter how easy or hard it has been. I love you. Always have. Now, dance with me, please?” And Owen never could say no to Curt and let him take the lead again, gently humming as they swayed around the room. 

It wasn’t really dancing, what they did, but it was far nicer than any dancing they did on the job. After all, the dancing on the job didn’t have Curt resting his head on Owen’s shoulder after a song, it didn’t have laughter every time one of them stumbled, it didn’t have the contentment that came alongside dancing with the man you love.

“I always missed this.” Owen said softly, barely louder than the music. “Whenever we were apart, I missed this. Missed you being this close. Missed holding you. Missed your voice… Hell, I think I even missed you stepping on my feet every few steps.”

“Hey!” Curt looked up at him with fake offense and Owen couldn’t help but smile.

“I love you.” He said as though it were an apology, but Curt was smiling too and he knew it wasn’t needed.

The room fell back into a quiet interrupted only by the music and by Curt humming along, mumbling whatever words he knew.

_ “I don’t know if we’re in a garden, or on a crowded avenue,” _ Owen rested his chin against Curt’s shoulder, just holding him,  _ “You are here.” _ Curt tapped his side to the rhythm,  _ “And so am I.” _

Owen stayed quiet through the mumbling, a soft smile on his face as he listened to his husband. Of course, it was the love songs that he knew. No matter how much he denied it, he was always the hopeless romantic. 

_ “Maybe millions of people go by, but they all disappear from view… And I only have eyes for you…” _

The song faded out and their movement slowed to a soft swaying in place, “You’re a cheesy bastard, Mega.” The sarcasm in it was drowned out by the smile.

“Oh, you love it.” Curt grinned up at Owen. 

“You’re right. I do. Love you too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! The song is I Only Have Eyes for You by the Flamingos (suggested by my friend).


End file.
